Stripped
by Cassandra's Destiny
Summary: A wrong thing is wrong. There is nothing more wrong than that.
1. Strip

_Standard disclaimers apply._

**STRIPPED**

_**By Cassandra's Destiny**_

---

_A wrong thing is wrong. There is nothing more wrong than that._

---

"It has been a long time."

She entered the warehouse unannounced. Her visits always were.

"So it would seem."

Her features were sharp and cold, skilled fingers brushed against the wooden crates piled carelessly on the floor. This was not her home, yet she belonged here. It cannot be certain though if it was the contrast between her striking features and the dullness of the brown and black behind her that made her fit in, or the salient semblance she keeps that allows her to conceal herself in the dark veneer of the room.

As she moves closer to her assignment, her eyes project a stunning disinterest. But he was sure it was a façade.

"I've come for business." Her cold tone matched her cold temperament.

He leaned against the doorframe leading to the back room. He knows she hates his guts, but if there was something he was very sure of, it was that she despises his arrogance.

"Do you have the money?"

"I haven't even stated the nature of my business," came her sharp tone.

"My, don't you think we have had that established already?"

The mockery in his voice almost made her frown. She was not playing games with him. She was on a mission. "Don't pull that stunt on me, Hisoka. I have an assignment and I have every intention of fulfilling it."

"And if I refuse to cooperate?"

She clenched her jaw; oh, how she wanted to turn down this mission. She knew there was going to be trouble. But here she was, standing opposite the most impossible person in the world.

"Can't I speak with Illumi instead?"

Crossing his arms as a crude gesture to his _guest_, his answer came out like venom. "I know you didn't come for him, Machi. Your assignment was to get the stash from _me_."

She rubbed her temples, trying her hardest to ease the infuriation building up inside her. Setting her eyes back on the man before her, Machi was determined not to let him win. "Well do you have it?"


	2. Me

_Standard disclaimers apply._

**STRIPPED**

_**By Cassandra's Destiny**_

---

"_Can't I speak with Illumi instead?"_

_Crossing his arms as a crude gesture to his __guest__, his answer came out like venom. "I know you didn't come for him, Machi. Your assignment was to get the stash from __me__."_

_She rubbed her temples, trying her hardest to ease the infuriation building up inside her. Setting her eyes back on the man before her, Machi was determined not to let him win. "Well do you have it?"_

"If I tell you I don't?"

"Then I'm gone."

The exchange was unnecessary. Even before she arrived, she already had a two-step plan: Step one, get the stash, and step two, get the hell out.

"No need to be hasty, my dear Machi. Things require patience."

Patience. Sweet patience. Machi knew she left that out when she was shopping for traits and characteristics.

"Do you have it or not?"

Hisoka uncrossed his arms. It was clear she was not up for his games tonight. What she wasn't aware of, though, is that he was not playing childish games with her. In fact, even before she came in, he had already laid out a simple two-step plan: Step one, make her mad, and step two, make her _fuming_ mad.

And so far, everything has been going according to plan.

"Hisoka." She was irritated, he knew. "Do you have it or not?"

Her tone was cold as always, but rarely did it hold a hint of pure hatred it now did. Machi must really be mad. Perfect.

"Need I escort you to the door?"

"I take it you don't have it?"

"I don't have what?"

There was no need for her to twitch out of surprise. She was no touchy-feely being. Moreover, she was not surprised. There was no need for her to shift uncomfortably. She was no blushing schoolgirl so she does not 'shift'. She was far from uncomfortable either.

Her gaze hardened. "Should I tell him you didn't fulfill your end of the bargain? Or should I say you simply plan on turning against him?"

"Tell him whatever you want." Hisoka scorned. As sick and wrong as it may sound, asking her what he doesn't have was his way of lightening the mood. But again, in a situation such as this, his method of lightening things up was sick and dead wrong.

"I do not require your permission. I'll say what I want to say."

"Then you'll say yes?"

She raised a brow. Hisoka has never been a person one can easily understand, but tonight, he was being particularly difficult.

"Need I escort you to the door, Machi?"

He opened the entrance behind him, allowing her to set her gaze on the back room, the warehouse's main office. And because he was being too much of a gentleman that night, he completely fought the urge to chuckle when he saw her narrow her eyes at the gray compartments piled one over another carefully. Machi is not stupid, and she definitely gets it now.

"Taking off your shoes wouldn't be necessary." Hisoka said, snapping her out of her thoughts, although he was more than sure criticisms were still running through her head in the speed of light.

With his call, he stepped inside the office, confident that Machi was in tow.


	3. For

_Standard disclaimers apply._

**STRIPPED**

_**By Cassandra's Destiny**_

---

_He opened the entrance behind him, allowing her to set her gaze on the backroom, the warehouse's main office. Because he was being too much of a gentleman that night, he fought the urge to chuckle when he saw her narrow her eyes at the gray compartments piled one over another carefully. Machi is not stupid, and she definitely gets it now._

"_Taking off your shoes wouldn't be necessary." Hisoka said, snapping her out of her thoughts, although he was more than sure criticisms were running through her head in the speed of light._

_And with that, he stepped inside the office, confident that Machi was in tow._

"I never thought you were this stupid."

"Stupidity is relative."

He took a seat, sliding over a small brown envelope on the large desk to Machi. "And this is…?"

"You should know. This is _your mission_ after all."

Hiding a scowl on her face has always been one of her many talents. Hisoka can attest to that. No matter, he placed his feet up on the table. After all, annoying her and making her scowl are two of his _many_ talents.

"You disgust me."

Raising a hand over his chest and sighing dramatically, Hisoka replied. "I didn't know you felt that way about me."

Machi gave him _the look_, and heaven knows how long it has been since Hisoka saw _that look_. Truth be told, he missed it, no matter how sick it may seem.

"Aren't you going to take a seat, Machi? Or was sitting down not part of your mission?"

His sarcastic tone threw her off, but not completely. Again with the twitching out of surprise and shifting uncomfortably, that is, if she was a touchy-feely being or a blushing schoolgirl, which she both are_not_.

Taking a seat opposite Hisoka, Machi braced herself. Even if she has gotten_this far_ already, in Hisoka's book, _this far_ is never_far enough_. Why didn't she turn down this mission again?

"Where is it?"

"I thought I asked you to be patient."

"I may not have heard your thoughts."

"Or you may have shut out my thoughts completely."

"If you know what's best for you, you'd give me the stash right away." She knew there was no way her plan would work, especially when it involves Hisoka. But she at least had to try.

"The envelope."

She stared at the brown envelope before her. "It's not going to bite you, Machi. I never thought you would be afraid of a little brown envelope. In fact, I've always thought you were more on the _daring_ side."

The manner Hisoka delivered that last line made the corners of her lip twitched. The endearment turned hoax in his voice annoyed her more than any stunt he has pulled this night. "What are you getting at?"

"I think we have established that already."

"You know I am on a mission."

"Yes." His answer was simple. The question was simple. There was _no need_ to expound if she never asked him to do so.

"Now is not the time—"

"Then when is?" He cut her off. Now is not the time, she says. Well, now_is_ the time Hisoka can no longer listen to her bullshit. He has had enough of that in the past already. "Do you realize what you're doing?"

Her head snapped up, focusing her gaze on his face. _Alas_, she can neither read his emotions nor see what's underneath the underneath.

"Don't try to achieve the impossible, Machi."

"Shut up." She scowled, and it has not gone unnoticed by Hisoka.

Putting his feet down, he clasped his hands together, placing them on top of the desk: a clear sign of formality for this _business transaction_. A clear sign he was _not_ going to let her win.

"Do as you wish."

"I already have."

"Then you no longer wish to do more?" What her affiliations have assured her is a mystery to him.

"I no longer wanted to be here."

He smirked. "That's exactly what you said the last time."

"I say that because it's the truth." She turned away, her eyes getting lost in the abstraction of the painting opposite his desk.

"And now you speak the truth? Maybe next time I'd see you walking on your knees and making prophecies about the one true messiah."

She was a liar. He knew this because he, too, was a liar. And Machi speaking the truth, moreover, Machi _admitting_ it's the truth, is completely beyond him. What her affiliations have done to her, he wondered.

"And where do you want to be? _There_?"

"Nowhere, that's where."

"You always give me this crap, Machi."

"…you deserve nothing more."

That hit a nerve he never knew existed. "Fuck you."

"You already have."


	4. All

_Standard disclaimers apply._

**STRIPPED**

_**By Cassandra's Destiny**_

---

The room had smelled of incense smoke and sweat. 

A loud thug and they were sprawled on the floor, with him making no effort in pinning her down, _keeping_ her down. He reached across the carpet for his pack of cards under the table. Her eyes momentarily flickered with irritation as she watched him finger the flimsy corners of the grimy box. He noticed the intensity in her look, of course, but if it was of impatience or of spite, he could not tell.

"Don't move," he said in a harshly grating voice, his sudden action _almost_ unsuspected.

A grunt. She fought the urge to spit on his face. "How romantic."

No trickle of sweat fell to her chin. The four of spades unmarked, positioned at an angle on the hollow of her neck. For a brief moment, their gazes met – lids low, eyes clouded.

And he went in.

Her cry was muffled by an unexpected growling thunder. True, her cry was loud in his ears, but _not loud enough_. He knew she would not scream or yelp in pain, not for him… not with him.

He went out, adjusted the angle of the four of spades. Now it inched closer to her unscathed skin. He was waiting for the skies to blaze and the rain to pick up. In moments, the low rumbling of thunder served as his cue.

He went in again – this time, _harder_, more powerful.

She bit her lip, and crisp blood came. He could not help but lick _his_ lower lip in lustful desire, lightly running down the edge of the card on her lithe form.

He felt her shiver under him; with every meeting of thin plastic and flesh, her body reacted with an inconspicuous quiver. Leaning down, her eyes burning into his, he trippingly licked _her_ lower lip, tongue darting in and out before biting the very spot of the cut. She felt his hot breath against her face and her cheekbones jerked slightly in pain. Blood flowed, lips turned pallid; he bit her hard.

He went in and out. In and out he went, yet she did not scream.

It was not frustration he felt, he was _sure_. The issue was not so much revolving around his ego, granted the circumstances. It was, however, an attack on everything primal in the world. She was _supposed_ to lose control.

In he went again, and he began running down his tongue on her body – all real, stripped of anything synthetic. She dug her nails on the small of his back, scraped his skin with the intention of _inflicting_ pain, not _easing_ it. In an instant, the four of spades was back on the hollow of her throat.

"I told you not to move." His voice still hoarse and raspy, his tone, forceful and imposing.

She smirked, and he too smirked against her skin. He knew _she_ would not _allow_ herself the pleasure of losing control. She knew _he_ would do _anything_ to prevent himself from losing control.

Out, and in he goes once more. This time, the roaring thunder need not muffle any sound.

For she still _refused_ to scream – not for him, _never_ with him.

"_You always give me this crap, Machi."_

"…_you deserve nothing more."_

_That hit a nerve he never knew existed. "Fuck you."_

"_You already have."_

The side of his lips curled into what Machi perceived as a sinister smile. Hisoka closed his eyes and said nothing. In a twinkling, there was a pregnant pause. She turned her head and eyed the door.

It was raining out and the sound of each raindrop hitting the roof was bothering her. She pursed her lips in touchiness, her slim fingers drumming on Hisoka's desk.

"Thinking of ways you could kill me?" She had enough of the silence.

He was undeniably amused. Machi is usually not the type who would be uncomfortable in stillness.

"No," a shrug. "I was thinking of the _odds_ I'd end up killing you."

Her impulse was to roll her eyes, but she settled for cocking her head instead. "I say zero."

"Zero?"

"The odds of you killing me is zero." The arrogant smile on her face was another amusing feat for Hisoka.

He shot her an arrogant look of his own. "My, you suppose I wouldn't be able to stand splitting you in half, or see your tiny body squirm in bloody pain?"

Her brow almost twitched. Almost. She does not _squirm_ in pain. "It's not like you _can kill_ me."

"Ah, yes," Hisoka began in an irritatingly high note. "They say you're always in _for_ the kill, not _to be_ killed."

"It's—"

"And you say it's not that easy to get rid of you… I remember." Her interruption has gone unacknowledged, naturally.

Machi leaned back on her chair and crossed her legs. She rubbed her temples for the second time that night. Had this been a transaction with an ordinary person, it would have taken four to six minutes, seven minutes tops. But Hisoka was not that kind of business dealer; he was no _ordinary_ individual indeed. "I don't think you are deaf, Hisoka, neither do I feel you are suffering from short-term memory lost. In fact, in my opinion, you remember _too much_ of things…" she trailed off.

_Flattery_, he thought. "Only _important_ details, Machi."

"But tonight's not the night for you to narrate to me all those details."

Now he was certain she wasn't playing. "I remember," a short pause, a delaying tactic in her view. "You mentioned something about having an assignment and _you_ having every intention of fulfilling it."

She nodded once.

"Then if you don't mind," swiftly, she uncrossed her legs and held the brown envelope in her hand. "I'm leaving."

Standing up, she dropped a pouch on his desk, producing an audible thump on the hard wood. Machi walked to the door at her own pace, neither sluggish nor swift. Hisoka watched her free hand reach for the metal handle, another sinister smile forming on his lips.

Before she could turn the knob, a card was jabbed into the door. Her eyes widened.

It was the four of spades.


End file.
